


Sins of the Father

by enigmaticblue



Series: Sun 'Verse [27]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 13:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5587678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sins of the father are often visited upon his children, and sometimes in unexpected ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sins of the Father

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thomasina75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasina75/gifts).



> A birthday gift for thomasina75 (late! Sorry!), who asked for Winchesters, Dean/Cas, Sun ‘verse, and a hunt that John Winchester never finished coming back to haunt them. Also fills the hc_bingo prompt, “magical trouble.” Part of my Sun ‘verse, set just after Gone Fishing but before While the Weary World Is Sleeping

It started with one of Howl’s horses getting sick—not that they knew it at the time. Sam returned home after a long day helping Howl, hours after dinner had been eaten and the leftovers put away.

 

Dean hid his worry from the kids, but knew he wasn’t fooling Cas, who kept glancing at him. Ben was on edge, too, sharpening his hunting knife in the kitchen with tense shoulders. Mary sat next to him, reading a book. Ryan and Cora were already in bed, and Henry and Casey were watching an ancient copy of _Jurassic Park_ in the living room.

 

Cas busied himself preparing oatmeal for the next morning, and Dean cleaned his guns, feeling every second pass by.

 

There was a chance that Sam took off, that he decided he didn’t want to stick things out. Maybe Sam was tired of the kids, or decided he hated Dean’s relationship with Cas. Maybe—

 

The front door opened, and Sam called out, “Hey, guys.”

 

He sounded weary, and Cas immediately went to the fridge to pull out smoked turkey, cheese, and bread. “Are you hungry?” Cas called, motioning to Dean to sit.

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Sam replied, entering the kitchen. “I didn’t want to impose on Howl. He was done in.”

 

“Something come up?” Dean asked, hoping his tone was as light as he could manage.

 

Sam sighed. “One of the horses is sick, and we were doing everything we could to save him.”

 

Mary dropped her book to sign, “Is he going to be okay?”

 

Sam apparently caught enough of it to respond. “So far, but he’s not out of the woods yet. I’m planning to go back to spend the night in the barn, but I wanted to get something to eat, and let you know where I was.”

 

“Do you need any help?” Ben asked quickly. “I’ll come with you.”

 

“Me too!” Henry piped up from the doorway. “I want to come.”

 

Sam grinned, although he still looked weary. “Ask your dad, guys, but it’s probably going to be pretty boring.”

 

“One of you can go,” Dean said. “But only if Sam wants you there.”

 

“There’s plenty of hay, but it’s a little cold,” Sam replied. “It might not be the most comfortable night you guys have spent.”

 

“I really want to go,” Henry insisted, turning a pleading look to Ben.

 

“Henry should go,” Ben said generously. “He’s the one who’s interested in animals.”

 

“Go get the sleeping bags,” Dean said.

 

Henry let out an excited squeak and ran off, causing Sam to chuckle and shake his head.

 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Dean asked him. “If he’s in the way…”

 

“He’s not,” Sam said immediately. “Besides, I’d hate to disappoint him now.” He hesitated. “But Dean, we might still lose the horse. If you don’t think Henry can handle that—”

 

“I think he’ll be fine,” Dean said, “and he has to learn at some point.”

 

Ben frowned. “Learn what?”

 

“Sometimes, you can’t cheat death,” Dean replied ruefully. “No matter how hard you try.”

 

Henry’s mom had died when he was small, but he’d been so young that he didn’t remember much about her, and she’d been very sick before her death. Henry had known Bobby, too, but hadn’t been as close to him as Ben and Mary had.

 

Henry was, in many ways, still an innocent, and while Dean wanted him to keep his childhood innocence for as long as possible, he also knew that Henry needed to toughen up a bit. If he really wanted to be an animal doctor, he needed to learn that death was just a part of life.

 

It had taken Dean a long time to learn that lesson.

 

Henry reappeared out of breath, dressed in his warmest clothing, and with a sleeping bag under each arm. “I grabbed one for you, too, Uncle Sam!”

 

Sam smiled. “Thanks, Henry. I’m glad you’re looking out for me.”

 

Henry practically vibrated with excitement while Sam finished eating. “Sorry, Henry, but I’m going to grab a shower before we leave.”

 

Henry sighed loudly. “I understand, Uncle Sam. Can I bring Scout?”

 

“Sure,” Sam replied. “That’s fine.”

 

Casey showed up in the kitchen as Sam headed upstairs. “What’s going on?”

 

“I’m going to help Uncle Sam with a sick horse!” Henry said, his excitement obvious.

 

Casey frowned. “How come you’re going?”

 

“Because I volunteered, and Ben said I could go,” Henry replied, suddenly realizing that he was leaving his friend behind. “Sorry, Casey. Did you want to come?”

 

Casey snorted. “And spend all night in a cold, stinky barn when I could be in a warm, soft bed? No way.”

 

Dean shared an amused look with Cas. “Can’t say I disagree, Casey,” Dean said. “How’s the movie?”

 

Casey shrugged. “It was good. I liked the velociraptors.”

 

“You should get ready for bed,” Cas said.

 

Casey frowned. “Henry gets to stay up all night. Can’t I read for a little while?”

 

“For a little while,” Cas agreed. “But the next time I tell you that you need to head to bed, no arguments.”

 

Casey nodded. “Okay. Thanks!”

 

Sam entered the kitchen, his hair damp from the shower and pushed back from his face. “Okay, Henry. Let’s get going.”

 

“Take the Willys,” Dean said. “See you tomorrow.”

 

“You will,” Sam promised.

 

Dean relaxed slightly. He knew that it would take some time for him to trust that Sam was going to come home every night, but it got a little easier to do every time Sam came home.

 

~~~~~

 

Cas dropped the kids off at Julia’s a little late the next day, since they had to wait for Sam to bring Henry home before heading into town. Sam was catching a few hours of sleep before heading back to Howl’s, and Henry was tired and a little cranky, but Dean had insisted he go to school.

 

“If you voluntarily stay up all night, that doesn’t mean you can skip your responsibilities the next day,” Dean had said.

 

Cas agreed with Dean, if only because the other kids would have pitched a fit if Henry hadn’t gone to school with them. Plus, he agreed that Henry was old enough to start being treated like an adult—if a young one.

 

Granted, the horse had survived, and Cas suspected that if the horse had died, Dean would have let Henry stay home. Dean was soft with his kids when necessary.

 

He stopped by Maryanne’s next to see if he had any messages, and was met at the door. “Oh, good,” she said with real relief. “I was hoping you’d stop by today. We have a situation.”

 

“What kind of situation?” Cas asked, already not liking the sound of things.

 

“Emmaline Birch and Mandy Richardson are sick,” Maryanne replied. “The Birches asked for you specifically, since you were able to help her last time.”

 

Cas frowned. “Emmaline was the one targeted by the lamia, the case that brought us out here. You thought Mandy Richardson might be next, but she wasn’t harmed.”

 

“That’s right,” Maryanne said. “You think it’s connected.”

 

Cas shook his head. “I don’t know, but it seems like too much of a coincidence. Howl’s got a sick horse—has anybody else reported any illnesses? It could be people or animals.”

 

Maryanne frowned, thinking. “Not that I know of, but it might be that they just haven’t been in lately. A lot of people around here tend to hole up when they get sick, you know that.”

 

“No money for a doctor, so they try to treat it themselves, or call me,” Cas agreed. “I’ll stop by the Birches’ house first.”

 

Cas had no real reason to be suspicious, but something felt _off_. Emmaline Birch and Mandy Richardson were about the same age, so it was at least possible that they could have infected each other.

 

At least, that was what Cas kept telling himself, right up until when he arrived on the Birches’ doorstep.

 

They were still in the same home as when Cas had first stood vigil over Emmaline, and Cara met him at the door. “Oh, Cas, thank you for coming.”

 

“Of course,” he said. “I’m just sorry it couldn’t be under better circumstances.”

 

Cara ushered him inside. “Emmaline is upstairs. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

 

Cas wasn’t an angel anymore, but he did have a sensitivity to supernatural matters, and he felt an overpowering darkness as soon as he crossed the threshold. The Birches weren’t the sort to practice dark magic. “Cara, have you had any visitors recently?”

 

“A woman came by a few days ago,” Cara said, sounding confused. “Why?”

 

Cas didn’t want to alarm her. “I’m going to try to lift the darkness around Emmaline. Any information I can get about the last few days might help me determine what has made her ill, and perhaps prevent something similar in the future.”

 

“She said she was traveling,” Cara said, still bewildered. “She just wanted a glass of water.”

 

Cas nodded. “It was kind of you to get one for her. Was she alone at any point?”

 

“Well, she wanted to use the bathroom,” Cara replied. “The only bathrooms are on the second floor, so… Cas? What is this about?”

 

“Perhaps nothing,” he said neutrally. “I’ll go up and see Emmaline now.”

 

He checked the bathroom quickly, and was unsurprised to find that it was clean. Emmaline’s room seemed to be the center of the disturbance, and there was a sense of oppression immediately upon entering that made him feel sick.

 

Cas knew he needed to find the hex bag, or the source of the problem, but Emmaline was stirring restlessly, whimpering, and he had to see to her first, to offer what small comfort he could.

 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Cas rested a hand on her forehead, murmuring a prayer—for recovery, for the darkness to be pushed back, and not to trouble her again. After a few minutes of fervent prayer, Emmaline fell into a deeper sleep.

 

Cas hated to disturb her privacy, but he needed to find whatever was causing this problem. He looked in the obvious places first, the places that would be out of the way and not readily seen—behind the dresser, under the bed, in the closet. He knew it was there, but had no way to find it without a search.

 

The hex bag was behind the dresser, wedged tightly between the wall and the dresser leg, virtually impossible to see. He didn’t want to touch it with his bare hands, so he put on one of his gloves and wrapped it up in it.

 

Cas didn’t want to carry it on his person, or expose any of the kids to it, but he knew he needed to get it out of Emmaline’s room. It wasn’t the best option, but he ducked out of Emmaline’s room and met Cara in the hallway. “Do you have a phone?”

 

Cara frowned. “We do. Did you want to call someone?”

 

“I need to call Maryanne,” Cas replied, “and I need to check something in the vehicle, but then I’ll be able to sit with Emmaline for a little while longer.”

 

Cara didn’t ask any additional questions, probably because Cas had saved Emmaline once before, and there was a level of trust for him that she wouldn’t have for someone else.

 

Sam would be at Howl’s, and Howl didn’t have a phone either. Dean had headed to a neighboring town to do some mechanic work, which meant that Cas didn’t have a lot of options.

 

“Maryanne’s,” said the woman herself. “How can I help you?”

 

“It’s Cas,” he said. “I need a favor.”

 

“Anything,” she said immediately.

 

“Do you have anything that’s silk?” Cas asked.

 

Maryanne didn’t even pause. “Of course. I’ll come meet you, and I’ll bring a lockbox while I’m at it. How’s Emmaline?”

 

“Sleeping peacefully,” Cas replied. “And her sleep is only going to get easier, but I’m going to need to head over to the Richardsons’ before the day is out.”

 

“I’ll bring lunch,” Maryanne said. “I doubt Cara had a chance to fix anything, and she should be with her daughter.”

 

Cara was wringing her hands when Cas got off the phone. “Is everything all right?”

 

“It will be,” Cas promised. “Do you trust me, Cara?”

 

“Of course!” Cara protested. “But—I don’t understand.”

 

Cas reached out with his free hand and patted her on the shoulder. “There are some things in this world that it might be better never to have seen, and maybe never to have heard of.”

 

“Haven’t I already been exposed?” she protested. “This is the second time Emmaline has been targeted.”

 

“And I promise you that we will find out who’s done this, and how to prevent it ever happening again,” Cas replied.

 

Cara sighed. “Maryanne knows?”

 

“She knows some of it,” Cas admitted. “But Dean and I had many years before we came here to get an education in these matters. We have decades of experience.”

 

Cara nodded. “I should get something together for lunch.”

 

“Maryanne is bringing lunch,” Cas replied. “Meanwhile, I’m just going to wait out here for her. She should be along shortly. Go be with your daughter.”

 

She hesitated, then said, “I trust you. I’ll go sit with Emmaline until you can come up.”

 

Cas didn’t want to put the hex bag in the car, so he waited outside for Maryanne, knowing she wouldn’t make him wait long. Fifteen minutes later, Maryanne was pulling up. She handed Cas a square of silk first thing, and he wrapped the hex bag up. Maryanne held out a metal box, and he popped the wrapped bag into it, and Cas put it in the back of the jeep.

 

“Was that a hex bag?” Maryanne asked.

 

Cas nodded. “I need to pray for Emmaline, and then I need to head to the Richardsons’ place. I think I might need you to come with me, as I don’t know them well, and they haven’t asked for me.”

 

Maryanne nodded briskly. “I’ll just get lunch ready and soothe Cara, and you do what you need to for Emmaline. I’ll go with you to the Richardsons after.” She paused. “Does this have anything to do with the thing that brought you boys to town the first time?”

 

“I have no idea,” Cas admitted. “With a hex bag, though, it’s more likely that it’s a person, not a supernatural creature. But why it would have targeted Emmaline… I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”

 

~~~~~

 

Dean pulled up to the house, weary but pleased. A lot of times, his work as a mechanic was repaid in barter, or goods of some sort. Today, he was paid in cash, which was going to go a long way toward taking care of Christmas gifts.

 

He was a little surprised that the Willys wasn’t out front, and he pulled into the barn and headed inside, only to find the house empty. Dean felt a chill; coming home to an empty house was pretty much his worst fear at this point.

 

Given the time, they should have been home by now, and Dean limped through the house. He could head into town, make sure there hadn’t been an accident. If they weren’t there, he could go to Julia’s, then check Maryanne’s. Maybe something had kept Cas.

 

The crunch of tires on gravel had Dean limping out front, where Cas was pulling up to the house.

 

Dean didn’t say anything as the kids ran into the house, jostling each other and shouting. Cas and Ben stayed next to the Willys, and Dean went out to meet them.

 

“What happened?” Dean asked immediately.

 

Cas wordlessly went to the back of the Willys and pulled out a metal box. When he opened it, Dean looked inside, pushing aside the pink silk and frowning. “Two hex bags?”

 

“The Birches and the Richardsons,” Cas explained wearily. “Emmaline and Mandy both fell ill yesterday. I found the hex bags in their bedrooms.”

 

“Shit,” Dean muttered. “The two of them?”

 

“It seems like a little too much of a coincidence,” Cas admitted. “I’ve asked Maryanne to put the word out. If there are any other sudden illnesses, she’ll let us know.”

 

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Did Cara say that anybody had been around?”

 

“A woman came by and asked for a glass of water, said she was traveling. She had time alone in the house,” Cas replied. “The Richardsons had much the same story.”

 

Ben peered into the box. “What is that, Dad?”

 

“A hex bag, used by witches to cause harm,” Dean replied. He gave Cas a sharp look. “Go inside. You look done in. Ben, we’re heading to Howl’s.”

 

Cas nodded. “I had much the same thought. Maryanne is searching her shop and home. I would have stopped at Howl’s on my way to the house, but I knew you’d be waiting, and I didn’t want the kids with me.”

 

“Good thinking,” Dean replied. “Sam should be there. I’ll take Ben and see if we can get it figured out.”

 

“Be careful,” Cas warned.

 

Dean smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “Always.”

 

He and Ben were bouncing down the road when Ben asked, “If it’s a witch, what do we do?”

 

Dean stifled his immediate, bloodthirsty reaction. “That would depend on what she wants.”

 

“If she’s after you and Cas?”

 

“We’ll do what we have to do to protect ourselves and each other,” Dean replied evenly. “We always have.”

 

They pulled up in front of Howl’s, and Sam strolled out of the stable to meet them, a frown on his face. “What happened? Is everybody okay?”

 

“Two girls got sick, and Cas found hex bags in their rooms,” Dean said shortly.

 

Sam frowned. “And you’re here because—oh. Yeah, we’d probably better check.”

 

“Ben, if you see anything that looks like the hex bags you saw, don’t touch it. Call one of us,” Dean ordered.

 

Ben nodded seriously and began to search.

 

Sam looked at him. “Do you think they’re after you?”

 

Dean sighed. “The two girls who were targeted were part of the first case we had here, the one that brought us to Cypress Grove. The lamia had already made Emmaline Birch sick, and we had reason to believe that Mandy Richardson would be next.”

 

“And anybody who knows you would know that Howl is close,” Sam said knowingly. “What about Maryanne?”

 

“She met up with Cas today, and she’s looking, but I think she’s probably pretty safe,” Dean replied. “Maryanne is savvy, and she knows more about the supernatural than most around here.”

 

“Cas told me he had wards up at her place and your house,” Sam replied. “That could explain why she hasn’t come at you directly.”

 

Dean frowned. “What?”

 

“The wards,” Sam said. “You didn’t know?”

 

Dean could feel his face flush. “Well, yeah. I mean, Cas said something about Shep’s wards when we first moved in, but we didn’t really talk about it after that. Cas is the one who’s good at that stuff.”

 

Sam laughed. “You sound like an old married man, Dean. You figured Cas would take care of it and just assumed it got done.”

 

Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Problem?”

 

“No,” Sam replied softly. “It’s good that you have a partner you can count on, and you know, that you _do_ count on him.”

 

Dean felt pretty shitty about the implication. “Sam, you know—”

 

“That wasn’t a knock on you,” Sam was quick to say. “Or your relationship with Cas. I’m glad for you, really. It’s just—still kinda new.”

 

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, we should probably get in there and actually help Ben.”

 

Sam grinned sheepishly. “We should.”

 

Dean knew they were still feeling each other out, and he was grateful for the reassurance that Sam didn’t have a problem with his and Cas’ relationship.

 

“Dad!” Ben called. “I think I found something!”

 

The stable was weather-tight, as it needed to be for South Dakota winters, and Dean knew that Howl kept the stable locked up when he and Sam weren’t around. The hounds Howl raised—and got his name from—were valuable animals, as were the horses. Howl was often far more cautious than most of the folks in town, and was more likely to meet strangers with a rifle barrel.

 

Ben had found the hex bag half-buried near the foundation right outside the stall where the sick horse had been stabled.

 

“Good job, son,” Dean said quietly. “Let’s get this back to the house, and then we can compare the three bags. Sam, would you ask Howl if he’s seen any strangers around here?”

 

Sam nodded. “Sure. She didn’t approach while I was around. I would have remembered that. Meet you at home?”

 

Dean hadn’t quite gotten used to the idea that when Sam said “home,” he meant Dean’s, and he still loved to hear it. “See you there,” Dean promised.

 

He and Ben headed home, and Ben asked, “Are you and Uncle Sam okay?”

 

Dean looked over at him. “Yeah, Ben. We’re good. Better than we have been in a long time.”

 

~~~~~

 

Cas was tired as hell when he entered the house. Dean might occasionally joke about battling the forces of darkness, but there was a lot of truth to it. He wasn’t interested in cooking, but Mary quickly signed, “I have it, Dad.”

 

Her sign for him and her sign for Dean were different. Cas had a sign that mixed his first initial with that of “angel,” and Cas had no idea how she knew, but he’d never argued with her. Her sign for Dean was that of his first initial and “stubborn” or “reliable,” depending on how exasperated Mary was at the time of signing.

 

Either way, Cas knew how Mary felt about them, and she regarded both of them as her dads.

 

He sat down at the table and watched as she bustled around the kitchen, enlisting Henry and Casey in food preparation for a quick dinner of vegetable soup and cheese sandwiches.

 

At this point, Casey knew not to argue that cooking was a “girl thing,” and therefore not something she had to do, and she and Henry quickly started putting bread and cheese together until they had a respectable pile waiting for the griddle to heat up.

 

He watched with pleasure as they worked together, Ryan and Cora’s voices in the background as they played in the living room. Cora squealed, and Ryan laughed, and they were good sounds.

 

Their children were as safe as Cas and Dean could make them. They were healthy, and God willing none of them would ever be as still and sick as Emmaline and Mandy were today.

 

Cas comforted himself in the knowledge that they had both been feeling much better by the time he left.

 

He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of a busy household and the smells of vegetable soup and then toasted cheese sandwiches.

 

“Hey.” Dean’s voice was familiar, as was the heavy hand that dropped onto his shoulder. “You okay?”

 

“Just tired,” Cas admitted, opening his eyes. “You?”

 

“Fine,” Dean replied. “There was another hex bag at Howl’s. It explains the sick horse.” He hesitated. “Did you put wards up around the house?”

 

Cas frowned. “Of course, Dean. I told you I was renewing Shep’s wards when we first moved in. I’ve made sure they are up to date since then.”

 

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, Sam made a comment about that, how we were like an old married couple.”

 

“Well, we aren’t married, but we have been together a long time,” Cas pointed out, not quite understanding where Dean was going with this. “I fail to see what that has to do with the wards.”

 

“Sam said I had just assumed you were doing it, and I let it go,” Dean replied. “He left off the part where I never completely trusted him to do his job.”

 

Cas hitched a shoulder. “Then he has forgotten that he will forever be your younger brother, and that I never was.”

 

Dean let out a laugh, a little more genuine this time. “I suppose so. I didn’t think wards could keep out witches, or their magic.”

 

Cas hesitated. “Well, perhaps not most wards known to humans.”

 

Dean grinned. “Yeah it would figure that you’d have a few tricks up your sleeve.”

 

“Anything to keep you and ours safe,” Cas said.

 

Dean kissed him. “I know that.”

 

He sat down, and out of long habit, Henry grabbed an ice pack from the freezer for Dean’s knee, which Dean put to good use.

 

Ben entered the kitchen and started setting the table. Mary was just pulling the pot of soup off the stove to place in the center of the table on a trivet when Sam walked in, nodding at everybody wearily.

 

“Call Ryan and Cora in, Casey,” Dean said, and they all sat down to eat.

 

By unspoken agreement, they didn’t talk about the case, or the hex bags, or what it all likely meant. The vegetable soup was tasty, if not exactly exciting, and a few of the sandwiches were underdone on one side and burnt on the other, but no one complained.

 

Then again, no one ever complained, because if they did, they were politely invited to make their own dinner until such time that they apologized to the cook. It was perfectly appropriate for any of the kids to say that the recipe wasn’t something they cared to eat again, but insulting the cook was beyond the pale.

 

And given the food shortages, wasting food wasn’t an option either.

 

Food consumed, the kids made short work of the dishes, and then Dean sent them to the living room. “Ben, you can stay if you’d like.”

 

“Why does Ben get to stay?” Henry demanded.

 

“Because he’s sixteen,” Dean replied. “When you’re sixteen, you’ll have the option, too.”

 

Thankfully, the kids accepted that rationalization, and Ben kept his seat at the table. With a shake of her head, Mary indicated that she wasn’t interested, and herded the rest of the kids out of the kitchen.

 

“Dad?” Ben queried.

 

“I’m not saying we’re going to involve you,” Dean said. “I’m saying you’re old enough to be part of the discussion.”

 

Ben nodded and fell silent.

 

“Okay, I think it’s probably safe enough, so let’s take a look,” Dean said, grabbing the metal box and opening it. He carefully removed the hex bags from their silk wrappings and put them on the table, spilling their contents.

 

Ben half-rose from his seat. “What can you tell from the contents?”

 

“Sometimes you can figure out where the ingredients came from, which will tell you where the person came from,” Dean replied. “Cas?”

 

He frowned. “Small finger bones, probably that of a child, although it’s possible they’re from something like a raccoon. Larger bones, also finger bones, but definitely from an adult. Bindweed, henbane, and belladonna—in all three bags, using the same ratios. The same person created all three bags.”

 

“The herbs I understand,” Sam said. “But the bones?”

 

Cas had a sudden chill. “It is possible that this curse is a bloodline curse.”

 

“What’s that?” Sam asked.

 

“It’s a curse that passes from father to child,” Cas replied. “Via the bloodline.”

 

Dean glanced at Ben. “So, Ben’s at risk.”

 

“Not as long as he stays on the property,” Cas said. “The wards should keep any curses out. The bigger question is which bloodline they’re targeting.”

 

Dean frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

“Sometimes Ben or Henry will go to Howl’s, and occasionally we’ll stop by, but Sam is there most often,” Cas felt compelled to point out. “And you are both connected by blood.”

 

Dean looked at Ben. “Go upstairs. There’s a lock box on the top shelf of our closet. Bring it down here.”

 

Cas knew what was in the box, but he kept his peace, listening as Ben thundered up the stairs.

 

“You think it’s one of Dad’s old jobs come back to haunt us?” Sam asked.

 

Dean sighed. “Or one of ours.”

 

“There are plenty of ghosts in our past,” Sam agreed, with an expression that suggested he had a few more than Dean and Cas knew about.

 

Ben returned shortly, putting the box down in front of Dean, who pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and opened the box.

 

The old journal was familiar to everyone around the table other than Ben, who leaned in close. “What is that?”

 

“Our dad’s old hunting journal,” Dean replied. “Although not every hunt is in here, maybe we can narrow it down.”

 

Cas rose from the table, knowing that he didn’t need to be here for this—it was a family matter, and Dean and Sam still had a few things to work out. For that matter, so did Ben and Sam.

 

Cas would do his part to keep their family safe.

 

~~~~~

 

Sam and Ben leaned close as Dean paged through the journal. “A lady in white?” Ben asked.

 

“One of the first cases that Sam and I worked together after our dad disappeared,” Dean replied. “I’ll tell you about it sometime, or Sam can.”

 

“Right now, we’re looking for witches,” Sam said. “I know Dad ran into a few.”

 

“More than a few,” Dean replied. He drummed his fingers on the journal. “Dad doesn’t have a lot of entries about witches. It’s mostly about hex bags and what you can do to protect yourself and others. He didn’t talk about the witches themselves.”

 

Sam glanced at him. “Do you know what hunt it would have been?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Not one I went on with him, but it could have happened before he started taking me on hunts, or when we were separated. Or maybe it was one of our hunts after all.”

 

Dean thought for a minute. “When we dealt with witches, we didn’t leave a lot of people behind to complain, Sam. I don’t think it was one of ours. Whoever it is has to be around here somewhere, though. Someone in town would have noticed a stranger.”

 

“We can ask around town tomorrow,” Sam said.

 

Ben made a sound of protest. “Dad! You heard what Cas said. It’s not safe.”

 

“It’s not safe to stay holed up here, either,” Dean replied evenly. “If this person is really after us, then she’ll keep going after the people we care about, chipping away at everything we’ve built here until there’s nothing left.”

 

Sam nodded. “Dean’s right. If we poke our heads out, she might take a shot at us without her hurting anybody else.”

 

“That plan sucks,” Ben grumbled.

 

“It’s the only plan we’ve got,” Dean countered. “And it’s the plan least likely to get anybody else killed. That being said, I promise that Sam and I will stick together.”

 

Ben straightened. “What about me?”

 

“You’re going to stay here behind the wards and make sure no one comes near the house,” Dean ordered. “Magic might not work behind the wards, but it’s not going to keep out a witch if she physically breaks the perimeter.”

 

Ben grimaced. “Okay, fine, but I’m going to be super pissed if you guys get hurt.”

 

“So noted,” Dean replied. “But for tonight, let’s get some sleep. We can start fresh tomorrow.”

 

It was nearing bedtime for the kids, and there were the usual nightly rituals to get through. Ryan and Cora both needed a quick bath, which Dean took care of while Cas and Sam took a turn around the property, ensuring that everything was secure.

 

By the time Sam and Cas were back, Dean was sitting on Cora’s bed with her and Ryan cuddled up to him, reading a story while Casey and Henry got ready for bed. It was a familiar routine, and Dean could feel himself winding down as he read the book, and tucked the kids in, and finally retreated to the solitude of their bedroom.

 

He stripped down to his boxers, and put on a pair of Maryanne’s flannel pants and a long sleeved t-shirt to sleep in, since their bedroom was cold.

 

He crawled in between the sheets, and waited for Cas to join him.

 

He was half-asleep when Cas slid into bed, and Dean pulled him close, feeling Cas’ chilled hands and squeezing them between his own. “Cold outside.”

 

“A bit,” Cas admitted. “You’re warm.”

 

“I’ve had a little time,” Dean replied. “All clear outside?”

 

Cas moved a little closer. “Yeah, no sign of disturbance. We didn’t have a chance to look for hex bags. She may have planted a few without realizing that the wards would prevent any harm from coming to us.”

 

“I’ll have Ben and Mary look tomorrow,” Dean replied. “You can supervise.”

 

“Are you sure you want to go alone with Sam?” Cas asked.

 

“I think we have to,” Dean replied. “We can’t risk anybody else getting caught in the crossfire.”

 

Cas sighed but said, “I don’t disagree.”

 

“Sam and I will be fine,” Dean promised. “And it’s on us, whether it’s our mess or our dad’s. It’s our job to clean up.”

 

“Don’t take any stupid chances,” Cas replied.

 

Dean pulled him closer. “I have you, and I have the kids. I have a thousand reasons to live.”

 

He kept that thought at the forefront of his mind the next morning as they got up and got the kids fed. “We’ll let Julia know that the kids won’t be in today,” Dean told Cas. “And we’ll check her place for hex bags, too.”

 

Cas nodded. “Take care of yourself,” was all he said. Dean knew that was mostly because he didn’t want to worry the other kids.

 

“Make sure you all study today,” Dean ordered. “Just because you’re not going to Julia’s doesn’t mean you can ignore your studies.”

 

There was a ragged chorus of “yes, dad” and “yes, Papa Dean,” and Dean gave them all a hug and a kiss, because he knew that this job might be dangerous, and he didn’t want to leave anything undone.

 

Sam joined them and ate a bowl of oatmeal, and then they were out the door.

 

“You okay?” Sam asked.

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. Ask me after this, when we know who’s after us.”

 

Sam was quiet for a long moment as Dean drove down the road into town. “They could be after me, Dean. They could get to you and your family through me.”

 

“You go up against any witches in the last few years?” Dean asked.

 

“It wouldn’t have to be a witch,” Sam argued. “It could be someone who turned to black magic after I—”

 

He stopped, and Dean had heard enough of the story to guess where Sam was going with that.

 

“Maybe,” Dean allowed. “We all have demons, Sam. We all have enemies. We’ve fucked up, but we clean up our own messes, and that’s what this is about.”

 

“You can say that,” Sam returned bitterly. “You’ve spent the last five years building something here! You have a community, people who count on you, and I’ve done nothing but destroy people, destroy _lives_.”

 

Dean bit back the first words that came to mind, because he’d been trying to do better where Sam was concerned, to think before he spoke. “So what?” he finally asked. “So that just means you start building _now_. You think it was easy? I doubt I’d be here now if it wasn’t for this bum leg. I had to learn a new way of life, and so did Cas, but we muddled through.”

 

“But what if it’s an enemy of mine?” Sam asked again.

 

Dean took his eyes off the road long enough to meet Sam’s. “Then we deal with it, Sammy. We’re family. Your battles are always going to be mine.” He paused. “Besides, it might be an enemy of mine, and then you’d be doing me a favor in helping me protect my family.”

 

Sam smiled faintly. “ _Ours_. It’s our family, Dean.”

 

“Damn straight.”

 

Maryanne met them at the doorway of her store, holding another box. “I found another hex bag, but it was wedged into the bricks at the back of the store. I would have noticed if a stranger came in.”

 

Dean nodded. “Any other odd happenings around town?”

 

“The grocery store is out of milk,” Maryanne replied. “It spoiled, along with most of the perishable items. There’s still plenty of tinned and dried goods, but it’s going to put the pinch on people.”

 

Sam frowned. “It’s like whoever’s doing this is taking it right out of a playbook for witchcraft in the Middle Ages.”

 

Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, but why? Do they want to point the finger at us, convince everybody we’re witches? Or are they making some other point?”

 

Maryanne frowned. “Maybe she wants to make you boys out to be enemies of the community, but Dean, you and Cas have been here for years. You’ve been taking care of the people of this town all that time. We aren’t going to turn on you.”

 

“Maybe not you, but what about the Richardsons?” Dean asked. “Or the people who only have a passing familiarity with us and our family? Enough things go wrong, and people start thinking they’d be better off without us.”

 

Sam cleared his throat. “We should talk to Cas. He warded the house, and Maryanne’s place. Maybe he can ward the whole town.”

 

“Worth a shot,” Dean admitted. “For right now, maybe we should ask around, see if we can figure out who’s behind this, or if anybody saw something. Cas said he could sense the disturbance at the Birches’ and Richardsons’ house. Maybe we should get him in here.”

 

Dean remembered Cas’ exhaustion the day before, and he said, “Yeah, but let’s ask around and see if we can narrow it down first.”

 

Sam smiled faintly. “Just like old times, huh?”

 

“Just like,” Dean replied, thinking about poring over their dad’s old journal the night before. It was good to have his brother back.

 

~~~~~

 

Behind the wards, Cas’ awareness was slightly muffled, and normally he didn’t mind, but right now, he wished he had a better idea of what was going on. The kids were cranky and threatening to go a little stir crazy. Cas kept them working on their studies through the morning, but sent them outside after lunch.

 

He was hoping they’d burn off a little energy before he tried to get them to buckle down and work again.

 

Cas heard the crunch of tires on gravel, and stepped outside, hoping that it was Dean and Sam returning from town. When he didn’t immediately recognize the vehicle, he called to the kids, “Come inside, please! Ben, Mary, get the others.”

 

To their credit, no one argued, and Ben and Mary ushered the younger kids into the house while Cas grabbed the shotgun.

 

After a moment, Cas recognized Ernest, and judging by his speed, it was an emergency.

 

Ernest jumped out of the truck. “Cas, I’m glad I caught you at home. I hate to impose, but we have a bit of a situation, and you and Dean were the only ones I thought might be able to help.”

 

“Did you want to come inside?” Cas asked.

 

Ernest shook his head. “I don’t know that we have time for that. All our pigs are sick, but we thought that was just something that happened on occasion—bad luck, like. But when my girls all got sick, and when I heard about the Richardson and Birch girls…”

 

“Say no more,” Cas replied. The kids would be safe enough behind the wards, and there were a number of lives to consider. Not just Ernest’s kids, but the pigs, which provided meat for a lot of folks around Cypress Grove.

 

The loss of the business would devastate Ernest and his family, too.

 

“Let me have a word with the kids,” Cas replied and jogged up to the house. They were all crowded in the hallway, but away from the door, like they’d been taught.

 

“Cas?” Ben asked. “What’s wrong? Trouble at Ernest’s? Can I help?”

 

Cas nodded. “You can help by staying here with the younger kids.”

 

Ben opened his mouth to protest, but then apparently thought better of it. “Are you sure?”

 

“Someone needs to be here in case whoever it is turns up,” Cas replied. “Stay inside as much as possible, and keep the rifle loaded and out of reach of the little ones.”

 

“If you’re sure,” Ben replied dubiously, and Cas knew he was chafing at the restriction to their property, but he was still pretty sure that those hex bags carried a bloodline curse, and he wasn’t willing to risk any of the kids, especially Ben, who would be in the most danger.

 

“It’s for the best,” Cas replied. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

 

He grabbed another rifle, and climbed into the passenger seat of Ernest’s truck. “Do you know what’s going on, Cas?” Ernest asked.

 

“I do, but I’m not sure you want to know,” Cas said honestly. “If you’ll trust that I’ll do my best to take care of it.”

 

Ernest was quiet. “I’ll do just about anything to make sure my girls are okay, and I can take care of them. Would knowing do me any good?”

 

“It would just make you wonder about the things that go bump in the night,” Cas replied. “Sounds that make you wonder if the house is settling, or if there’s something out there.”

 

“There was a young woman at our house recently,” Ernest said. “She seemed friendly, and she was clean. She asked for a drink of water, and wanted to use our bathroom, and that seemed fine.”

 

“People around here look after their neighbors,” Cas replied. “And the occasional person passing through. You had no way of knowing. That’s not on you.”

 

“I put my kids at risk,” Ernest argued.

 

Cas took a breath. “It could have been Sam, Ernest. Or maybe someone’s family member passing through on their way home.”

 

Ernest sighed. “Yeah, I suppose so. Still, we’ll probably think twice before we let any strangers in the house in the future.”

 

Cas thought that was a shame, because part of what he liked about Cypress Grove was the welcoming atmosphere. He and Dean were a part of the town now, and while they’d been here for a while, they’d been in other small communities that were far more closed off.

 

He didn’t want their town to change because of trouble they’d brought down by virtue of their pasts.

 

Ernest’s place was a repeat of the Birches’ and Richardsons’, with the hex bags in the girls’ rooms, and another near the pig barn. Cas found them in fairly short order, and he prevailed upon Ernest’s wife for a scrap of silk and a box to put them in.

 

He prayed over the girls and the pigs alike, because the whole town would rely on those pigs this winter, and was relieved when everyone seemed to have recovered a bit by the time Ernest drove him home.

 

“Thanks,” Ernest said as he pulled up in front of the house. “”For everything you’ve done.”

 

Cas shook his head. “I’m sorry for bringing trouble down on you and yours.”

 

“Way I see it, that woman’s the one who brought the trouble,” Ernest replied. “You and Dean have been good for this town.”

 

“Thanks,” Cas replied. “The town has been good for us, too.”

 

Dean and Sam were already back when he entered, and Cas could smell sausage and tomatoes, which meant that either Mary or Dean had been cooking. As far as Cas could tell, Sam wasn’t much use in the kitchen.

 

As he got further into the house, he smelled baking bread, and knew that Mary was the one responsible.

 

He was worn out once again, and Sam greeted him at the door with a glass of something alcoholic. “Gil sent some of his homebrew,” he explained. “And Dean thought you could use it.”

 

Cas took it gratefully. Gil had begun experimenting with brewing a few years ago, and some of his recipes were more successful than others. After a sip, he knew this batch was one of Gil’s better efforts.

 

Two days of this kind of spiritual work meant that his reserves were low, and he needed something to take the edge off. He didn’t often feel this way, but when he did, he had to take a breath.

 

“Go sit down,” Sam said. “Dean’s in the living room with ice on, and I’ve got things covered in the kitchen with Mary and Ben.”

 

Cas thought about how nice it would have been to have Sam around the last few years, and then resolutely pushed that feeling aside. It was nice to have Sam here _now_ , and maybe Sam needed the time away to really appreciate coming home.

 

If Sam hadn’t wandered, would he have been so willing to settle down in Cypress Grove? Cas didn’t know the answer to the question, but he suspected the answer was no.

 

Dean was sitting in the living room with his leg propped up and his head tipped back.

 

“Did you overdo it today?” Cas asked.

 

Dean raised his eyebrows without opening his eyes. “Did you?”

 

“Perhaps a little,” Cas admitted. “All of Ernest’s girls were sick, and most of the pigs. I did what I needed to do in order to save them all.”

 

“Everybody okay?”

 

“One of the pigs died, but the rest will be fine,” Cas said. “I told Ernest to dispose of the pig, since we don’t know if it will cause others to get sick.”

 

Dean looked up. “Did you convince him to actually do it?”

 

“I did,” Cas replied. “Ernest didn’t want to take the chance.”

 

Dean nodded. “Good. No bridges burnt?”

 

“Ernest promised his best Christmas ham,” Cas replied. “So, I think it’s quite the opposite.”

 

“Good job,” Dean said with a warm smile. “About the only success we had today was picking up a six-pack of Gil’s homebrew.”

 

Cas raised his bottle in a salute. “Maybe that’s enough for today.”

 

But, of course, it wasn’t, because there was still someone out there causing trouble.

 

~~~~~

 

Dean wasn’t sure what to do about the threat. The woman—or women—seemed to be a ghost. She appeared in the guise of a traveler who needed a drink of water or the use of the bathroom, seeming harmless and friendly.

 

He and Sam had done the rounds in town, but hadn’t found any leads. Cas was trying to keep the harm from being any worse than it already was, and the kids were going a bit stir crazy being kept at home.

 

Well, Ben was going stir crazy. The other kids seemed to be content enough to stay within bounds, but Ben wanted to be out helping them. Dean didn’t blame him, but he couldn’t risk him either, no matter how much Ben wanted to be out there.

 

“Do you think you could ward the whole town?” Dean asked the next morning.

 

Ben, Sam, and Mary were still in the loft, and the other kids hadn’t woken up yet, so he and Cas had a chance to talk when they weren’t both exhausted and hurting.

 

Cas considered the problem, taking a sip of their hoarded coffee. They didn’t often have it, but today seemed like a good day for it. “Perhaps. I could put up wards, but I’m not sure how effective they would be, or how long they would last. The larger the area, the more difficult it will be.”

 

“I think we should try, at least around the town limits,” Dean replied. “We can go out today, maybe leave Sam with the kids.”

 

Cas shook his head firmly. “No. Sam is in better shape to do the rounds. We’ll have to go around the borders of town, and your knee isn’t up to it.”

 

Dean sighed, but couldn’t exactly disagree. “All right. I’ll entertain the kids for the day.”

 

That was the plan, anyway, but then Maryanne came a little after noon, her face set in grim lines. “I was hoping to find one of you boys here,” she said as Dean opened the door for her. “We’ve got some trouble.”

 

Dean grimaced. “Of course we do. What is it now?”

 

“Do you remember that old hotel where we found Ryan and Cora?” she asked.

 

Dean nodded. “A little hard to forget, considering what we brought home with us.”

 

“There’ve been reports of strange lights and noises out there,” Maryanne said. “Nobody thought much of it, since drifters come through from time to time and use it. It’s not fit for human habitation, but at least it’s shelter.”

 

“Go on,” Dean said, privately thinking they should have burned the place to the ground after the trouble that had resulted in them bringing their two youngest kids home, but that wasn’t his call to make, and it was far enough away that he didn’t insist.

 

“Well, now there’s reason to worry,” Maryanne said. “Marty and Claire Peterson have gone missing.”

 

Dean frowned, the names familiar but not immediately ringing any bells. “Wait, kids, right? Their parents are Diane and Stuart Peterson. I worked on their tractor last year.”

 

“Those are the ones,” Maryanne agreed. “When Stu gathered up a search party from the next town over, they found the mutilated corpses of a couple of deer. And we’re not talking badly butchered venison, Dean.”

 

Dean ran a hand through his hair. With Sam and Cas out who knew where, he wasn’t sure he could afford to wait for them to get back, not when two kids’ lives were on the line. Then again, he knew that both Cas and Sam would be pissed off if he didn’t have backup, and rightfully so.

 

Not for the first time, Dean wished they still had cell phones.

 

“All right,” Dean said. “I’m going to talk to Ben, and then we can head out.”

 

Henry and Casey crowded around as Dean gave his instructions to Ben. “I’m going with Maryanne to look for a couple of missing kids the next town over,” he said. “Stay here, and don’t let anybody in. If Cas and Sam come back, tell them that I headed out to Meadow to find the Peterson kids, and they should join me when they can.”

 

“Dad, you shouldn’t go without backup,” Ben argued. “Let me go with you. I know that area. I’ve hunted there.”

 

Dean hesitated. Ben made a couple of good points, but he couldn’t imagine leaving the kids undefended. Henry was good with the rifle, but Ben was better, and he could pick somebody off before they got up to the house.

 

Besides, his kids were safe behind the wards.

 

“I can’t let you do that, Ben,” Dean said, holding up a hand to stem the expected argument. “You’re a good hunter, and I don’t doubt that you’d be a help, but I can’t leave the other kids exposed.”

 

“I can take care of things, Papa Dean,” Henry piped up.

 

Dean nodded. “I know, son, but I can’t risk it. Ben, I need you to look after the other kids, and Henry and Casey, you can help.”

 

He pulled Ben out with him after grabbing a shotgun, and said, “I don’t want to put Henry in a position where he has to shoot someone. I don’t want you to have to do that either, but—”

 

“It’s cool, Dad,” Ben replied. “I understand.”

 

“Thank you,” Dean said, giving him a quick hug, and then climbed into the passenger seat of Maryanne’s truck. “All right, let’s go. Ben’s going to hold down the fort.”

 

Meadow was a fairly short drive from their place, and Maryanne steered unerringly for the Peterson’s farm on the other side of town. When they pulled up, there were a variety of vehicles and about ten adults milling about like bees around a disturbed hive.

 

Dean had been around enough hostile crowds to know one when he saw one, and when they got out of the truck, Dean felt that ire directed at him.

 

“What the hell is he doing here?” Stuart Peterson demanded. “We all know that him and his _boyfriend_ brought this trouble down on us!”

 

He said “boyfriend” like a curse, and Dean winced. He knew they’d been lucky, he and Cas—no one around Cypress Grove cared that they were together, just that they looked after their neighbors and took in kids, and could be counted on to pitch in when there was an emergency.

 

“Now, Stu,” Maryanne said. “You don’t have any proof of that, and Dean’s here to help find your kids, leaving his own at risk. Besides, what did he charge you for fixing your tractor last year?”

 

Stu subsided at that, probably because Dean hadn’t charged him anything, and the broken-down tractor could have cost him his harvest. Not that Dean had received so much as a thank you from him.

 

“Can you tell me what happened?” Dean asked, trying to buy a little time, and turn the mood of the crowd by projecting a “just want to help” vibe.

 

Something about this situation was bothering him, but he couldn’t put his finger on what.

 

“The kids went out to play, and they never came back,” Stu snapped. “What the hell else do you think happened?”

 

Dean took a deep breath and reminded himself that he’d be in a similar state if one of his kids were missing, not to mention _two_ of them.

 

“Stu,” Maryanne said sharply.

 

Diane came forward, her eyes red but appearing a little more composed than her husband. “The kids are always really good about letting us know that they’re going out, but they left after breakfast and didn’t say where they were going. When lunchtime rolled around and we couldn’t find them, we called in the neighbors to search, and nothing. We’ve searched the nearby woods, and even the old motel, but we didn’t find anything other than the dead deer.”

 

That didn’t match the other stories of a stranger who came up to the house and left a hex bag behind, and that bothered Dean. In his experience, the bad guys and monsters tended to stay consistent.

 

“Have you talked to their friends?” Dean asked.

 

Stu opened his mouth, probably to curse Dean out, but Diane interrupted him and said, “No, but our nearest neighbors are three miles from here.”

 

“Let’s ask around,” Dean suggested. “Maryanne and I will go talk to them, just to cover all our bases. Kids like to have secrets, and maybe there’s a place they like to go that they never told you about.”

 

Stu shrugged. “Do what you want.”

 

“Can I come?” Diane asked. “I feel like I’m going crazy just waiting around here, and the Moores might be more willing to talk if I’m there.”

 

From the look she shot her husband, she also needed a break from him, but then, Dean remembered that there had been some tension between them when he’d been out to fix their tractor.

 

Dean hadn’t pried, because he didn’t really want to be involved, but now it looked like he was in the thick of it.

 

Diane sat in the middle seat, tucking her legs to one side so that Maryanne could still shift, and said apologetically, “I’m sorry, but Stu’s just fixated on those mutilated deer, and he’s convinced the kids are in trouble.”

 

“You’re not?” Maryanne asked.

 

Diane hesitated. “We’ve been fighting a lot lately—Stu and me—and the kids have made themselves scarce. I let them, because I’d get away if I thought I could manage it.”

 

Dean considered that, and the fact that the weather was warmer today than it had been. It was still in the 40’s, but the sun was out, and a couple of kids who were moving around might be able to spend most of the day outside without getting too cold.

 

A couple of kids who grew up in and around the woods would know how to build a small fire for warmth, too.

 

“Are they close to your neighbors?” Dean asked.

 

Diane nodded. “We’d trade off child care duties, and Micah and Josh would come over for dinner every couple of weeks, and Marty and Claire would go over there.”

 

“Three miles isn’t that far for a couple of kids to go,” Dean said. “Not these days when there’s so much distance between neighbors. Were you two fighting this morning?”

 

Diane stared out the windshield. “First thing.”

 

She didn’t say what they’d been fighting about, and Dean didn’t ask.

 

They pulled up in front of the Moores’ house, which was just a little ways outside Meadow. The couple who came out to greet them weren’t familiar to Dean, but he could tell that Maryanne knew them.

 

But then, Dean wasn’t sure there was anybody in a three county radius that Maryanne wasn’t at least acquainted with.

 

Maryanne was the first out of the truck, and the man came over with his arms outstretched. “It’s been too long!” he said.

 

“Bo, it’s good to see you,” she said, giving him a big hug. “How have you been?”

 

“Good,” he said. “Diane, good to see you.” He trailed off, looking pointedly at Dean.

 

“Bo, Dean Winchester,” Maryanne supplied. “Dean, Bo Moore.”

 

Dean took the hand Bo held out. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Winchester,” he said.

 

“Dean, please,” he replied.

 

“Bo,” he said. “And my wife Karen.”

 

Karen had followed him outside, rifle in hand, but she set that aside to shake Dean’s hand. “Pleasure.”

 

“What can we do for you?” Bo asked, a note of wariness coming into his voice.

 

“We’re looking for Marty and Claire,” Diane said, her voice breaking a bit.

 

Kara frowned. “The kids? They’re at the fishing hole. Marty and Claire showed up midmorning, and said you’d given them permission to stay the day, and for dinner.”

 

Diane let out a breath. “Where’s the fishing hole? Can we go?”

 

“What’s wrong?” Bo asked, reaching out a supporting arm.

 

Diane laughed weakly. “They didn’t tell us they were going, and they certainly didn’t ask permission. We called out the search parties.”

 

Karen shook her head. “If I’d had any idea, I’d have sent them straight home, Diane.”

 

“Kids,” Dean said. “Let’s go out to the fishing hole and bring back those rascals.”

 

Bo led the way, and Dean followed. The rough ground was hell on his bad leg, but Dean gritted his teeth and grimly dealt with it. The fishing hole was about a mile from the Moores’ house, and the trail was at least well defined, and clearly a favorite destination.

 

When they broke into the clearing, they found three boys and a girl, all between the ages of 10 and 13, roasting a couple of fish over a small fire.

 

Dean recognized Marty and Clair from his trip to their place last year, but the guilt on their faces would have been a dead giveaway anyway.

 

“Hey, Mom,” Marty said in a small voice.

 

“You two are in so much trouble!” Diane said, but her voice broke, and Dean could see the tears start to fall.

 

“I’m sorry!” Claire said immediately, running to her mom. “I didn’t think you’d miss us!”

 

“Well, I did!” Diane said. “We thought something terrible had happened to you!”

 

It was a heartwarming reunion, but that worried Dean. The kids were fine, but there were still the mutilated deer to consider, and that meant—

 

He turned to Maryanne. “I need to get back home.”

 

Dean was suddenly certain that somehow, some way, this had been a diversion, a means to get him away from the house.

 

Maryanne nodded, her expression going from one of warm regard to concern. “I’m sure Bo can take them home.”

 

~~~~~

 

Cas frowned as Sam drove up the long drive just as the sun was going down, the Willys bouncing on the gravel road. It looked like just about every light on the house was on, and that was always a bad sign. They’d drilled it into their kids’ heads that electricity wasn’t an infinite resource, and they needed to conserve energy.

 

Sam sped up, apparently feeling Cas’ alarm, and he pulled to a stop in front of the house with a spray of gravel. “This isn’t good.”

 

“I know,” Cas said, and jumped out as soon as they’d stopped.

 

The scene inside didn’t make him feel any better. The tableau in the living room made Cas immediately think the worst: Henry was sitting on the couch, white-faced and tense, and Cora was crying, with Ryan and Casey awkwardly trying to comfort her. Mary was signing so quickly that Cas couldn’t catch everything, her hands almost stuttering.

 

Sam whistled sharply. “Hey! Settle down!”

 

The silence that fell over the room was deafening, and Cas crossed the room and pulled Mary into a hug. “Okay, I think you’d better tell us what’s going on,” he said.

 

Mary pulled back to sign tightly, “Henry tells the story.”

 

Henry’s shoulders hunched. “I’m really sorry.”

 

Sam sat down next to him and rubbed Henry’s back. “It’s okay, Henry, take your time.”

 

“Casey, take Cora and Ryan to the kitchen and get a snack,” Cas ordered when no one spoke up immediately. “Come on, Mary, sit.”

 

Henry stared at the floor. “Papa Dean went to help Miss Maryanne, and he said we should all stay here, but Ben said it wasn’t right for Papa Dean not to have backup, so he went after him.”

 

“Okay,” Cas said. “Henry, I want to know _exactly_ what was said.”

 

The story came out slowly, more slowly then Cas would like. Henry repeated what he’d heard from the conversation between Dean and Maryanne, and then what Dean had said. “And then Ben said he was going to take a bike and follow.”

 

Cas heard tires on gravel, and Dean limped into the house, stopping when he saw the scene in the living room. “Ben?” Dean asked.

 

“He followed you,” Cas said. “Did you see him?”

 

Maryanne had followed Dean inside. “Ben is gone?”

 

“He followed us,” Dean said. “Dammit! I should have known!”

 

“You told him not to go, and he went,” Maryanne said briskly. “As we all know, that’s a kid for you. Now, we need to find Ben, and the other kids need to eat. I’ll take care of that, and the rest of you can figure out how to find Ben. Henry, you can help me.”

 

That left them to figure out where Ben might be.

 

“We took the same route back here as we did leaving,” Dean said. “I would have seen Ben if we’d passed him.”

 

“Where else could they take him?” Sam asked. “All the problem so far have been tangentially related to you guys, right?”

 

Dean frowned. “The old motel. Diane Peterson said that they’d searched it when they looked for their kids, but they could have vacated it for the duration.”

 

“It’s where we got Ryan and Cora, and would fit with the pattern of how they were targeting us,” Cas agreed.

 

Dean ran a hand though his hair, and said, “It’s a place to start, anyway. If they’re not there, we’ll expand the search.”

 

“Let’s go, then,” Sam said. They armed themselves and took the sandwiches that Maryanne pressed on them, insisting that they couldn’t go with empty stomachs.

 

They ate the sandwiches while bouncing down the road in the Willys, Cas driving since Dean’s leg wasn’t doing so well, and Sam’s night vision wasn’t what it used to be with his missing eye.

 

Cas was bone-tired after the events of the last couple of days, but he was grateful that they seemed to be barreling towards an end. He was ready to be done with their mysterious enemy.

 

“Cas, I think Sam and I should go in the front, draw their attention, and let you go through the back,” Dean said. “We can leave you as our secret weapon.”

 

“If they’ve been watching us, I hardly think I’m going to be I’m going to be any kind of a surprise,” Cas pointed out.

 

Dean shrugged. “If they don’t know where you are, it’s going to be a surprise. Besides, she’ll expect us to come. It might throw her or them if it’s Sam and me coming through the front.”

 

Cas didn’t care for the strategy, mostly because it left Dean and Sam exposed, and he wouldn’t be present to help. “Only if you give me time to get into place.”

 

“I think we can probably manage that,” Dean replied.

 

They parked about a mile from the motel, near where they’d parked when on the rescue mission for Ryan and Cora. It felt like déjà vu, and Cas didn’t like the feeling. They might have walked away with a couple of kids, but their mother and the kidnapper had died, and he and Dean had dealt with nightmares for months.

 

As they approached the motel, there were certain windows lit up, but on opposite ends of the motel, which indicated that whoever this was wanted to split them up.

 

“How do you want to do this?” Sam asked.

 

Dean eyed the motel. “We could split up.”

 

“I think today has proven that’s a terrible idea,” Cas said.

 

Dean’s lips quirked up into a smile. “All right. Cas, Sam, you’re moving better than I am. Why don’t you two take opposite ends, and then report back here?”

 

“That works,” Sam said. “Cas?”

 

“You go left, I’ll go right,” Cas replied.

 

He moved as silently as he could, moving slowly and carefully to avoid snapping twigs and rustling, dry grasses. When he got up to the first lit window, he peered through cautiously, trying to stay out of sight.

 

He didn’t see anybody in that room, so he made his way to the next one. Once there, he knew that he wouldn’t be going back to report to Dean and Sam.

 

Ben was kneeling in the center of the room, in the middle of a ritual pentagram, and Cas really didn’t like what he was seeing. The side of his face was bruised and swollen, his lip was split, but his eyes were narrowed, and his chin was set in an expression of absolute defiance.

 

Cas had seen that expression on Dean’s face enough times to recognize it.

 

The window was cracked and a woman came into view. She was young, maybe in her mid-twenties, with long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail. Her clothing looked new and clean, something that wasn’t common in these parts—jeans tucked into knee-high boots, and a leather jacket.

 

Ben spat out blood onto the floor and said, “I don’t care what you say, or what you do. My dads and my uncle are going to kill you.”

 

“As long as they show up in time to watch me slit your throat,” she said pleasantly. “The sins of the father are visited upon their children, and their children’s children, even unto the third or the fourth generation. It’s a rough paraphrase, but true, nevertheless.”

 

Cas had heard enough for now, and he moved to the first dark window and carefully slid it open.

 

“I did wonder when the angel was going to show up,” a woman’s voice said.

 

Cas wished for his angel-blade, or even the demon-killing knife that Dean had on him. There wasn’t much light, and he was tired, and he knew that his only chance was to end this as quickly and quietly as possible.

 

He was no longer an angel of the lord, but he still had a warrior’s heart, and he’d fought for centuries before he found his home.

 

Cas would do anything to keep it.

 

He might not have his blade, but he had a hunting knife, and he grabbed it the way he’d once wielded his sword, ducking low and coming up where he’d seen a bit of light reflecting on metal. Cas used that as his guide, and with a quick stroke, he disemboweled her, then slit her throat with a backhand stroke.

 

Cas caught her body as she fell, to avoid the telltale thump. She looked quite a bit like the other girl, and he guessed they were related, maybe sisters. Given the little he’d overheard, he assumed that they’d targeted Dean and Sam, and through them, Ben, although whether that had been because of John Winchester or Dean and his brother, Cas didn’t know.

 

He wiped his knife off on her shirt and then crept down the hall towards the room where Ben was being held.

 

“The funny thing is,” a woman’s voice was saying. “We’ve been looking into this spell for some time, and we needed _you_. Through you, we can reach everyone, not just the people who have your blood, but those you’ve decided are family. Who will that be, I wonder? Don’t you think that the people left behind will be just as hurt by your rejection of them as family, as they will by the deaths of the others?”

 

“Fuck you,” Ben snarled. “You’re going to die before you finish that spell.”

 

“They haven’t come for you yet,” she replied smugly. “Do you think they even know you’re missing? You left without a word, didn’t you? Like father, like son.”

 

Cas opened the door another inch, and he could just see Ben’s back, and he was relieved to see that the ropes around his wrists were frayed and cut almost all the way through with a tiny blade from his boot.

 

Dean had driven home with all their kids—other than Ryan and Cora, who were still a little young—the importance of carrying a knife. With Ben, Cas knew Dean had taken special care to drive home the need to be armed.

 

Ben was out hunting on his own often enough that if he lost one knife, he might need a second; if he lost that one, he might need a third. And there had been people who thought it was easier to kill someone to get the game they’d shot, rather than hunting their own.

 

Cas opened the door a little more, knowing that he would need to time this just right. The woman crossed in front of his field of vision, and he saw that she had an athame in one hand, and a gun in the other.

 

He couldn’t risk bursting into the room, and he couldn’t wait for Dean and Sam. As soon as the woman figured out that Cas had killed her partner, she wouldn’t hesitate to kill Ben, no matter where in the ritual she happened to be.

 

Maybe Cas wasn’t a Winchester, but they were his family now, and Ben was his son, and he would do what he needed to do to protect them.

 

The woman passed out of his frame of vision, and Cas saw the ropes fray just a little bit more. If he timed it right, it would give Ben a chance to defend himself, even though he hated putting Ben into a position where he’d have to kill.

 

But alive was better than dead, and Cas mentally timed the woman’s trip across the room, and the fraying ropes around Ben’s wrists, and he waited until she’d passed in front of the cracked-open door again, and he could tell that the ropes would snap with one good pull.

 

At the right moment, at least as he could judge it, he slid his gun across the floor then burst through the door to offer a distraction. Everything seemed to happen at once, and he heard two gunshots in close succession, followed by a burning pain in his arm, and a thump as the woman’s body fell to the ground.

 

“Dad!” Ben said, and that was the first time Ben had used that title for him. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m okay,” Cas insisted, although his arm was bleeding from where he’d been creased by the bullet.

 

Ben pulled off his flannel shirt and then pulled off his t-shirt and started tearing it into strips. “I’ve got you.”

 

“Are you okay?” Cas asked.

 

“Been better,” Ben admitted as he bound Cas’ arm. “But it was my own damn fault for following Dad and then stopping for a broken down vehicle.”

 

“No question,” Cas said. “But you are your father’s son.”

 

“That’s what she kept saying,” Ben said, wrapping the rags around Cas’ arm. “She kept talking about how John Winchester had fucked over her mom, and they had been forced to grow up alone, and all of that.”

 

“She was a witch, and she sought to harm others,” he replied. “Judging by these symbols, she might have succeeded.”

 

Sam and Dean burst into the room. “What the hell?” Dean shouted. “We agreed to wait!”

 

“There was no time,” Cas said. “Ben and I handled it.”

 

Sam was looking around the room with an expression of distaste. “What is all of this?”

 

“She said it was a bloodline curse,” Ben said, and allowed Cas to give him a hand up. “It would have killed anybody I considered family.”

 

“And probably would have been successful,” Cas added. “With the additional power from the other woman.”

 

Dean looked from Cas to Ben and back again. “You guys are a mess,” he said. “Let’s gather some of this stuff up, and then head home.”

 

“What about the bodies?” Ben asked.

 

Cas met Dean’s eyes, and he could see they were both thinking the same thing. “I think we should burn the whole place to the ground,” Cas said. “But that can wait until tomorrow.”

 

~~~~~

 

Dean thought his heart was going to stop when he heard the two gunshots. He wasn’t quite sure which direction they’d come from, although it became obvious a moment later when Sam jogged up to him.

 

“Where’s Cas?” Sam asked.

 

Dean shook his head. “Not here.”

 

As one, they headed for the motel, crossing the clearing without trying to muffle the sounds of their movements. They burst through the doors at the main desk, and ran down the darkened hallway, easily finding the open door from the patch of light that spilled out.

 

Dean had come across worse scenes in his life—bloodier, gorier, with more bodies—but this was worse because it was his son and his partner.

 

Cas was a bloody mess, blood sprayed across his face, on his hands, on his shirt, and soaking one sleeve. Ben’s face was bruised, his lip split, and blood on his hands where he’d apparently been giving Cas first aid.

 

A woman’s body was on the floor, a hole in her forehead, blood pooling around her, and Dean couldn’t help his display of temper.

 

Cas’ gravelly, weary voice brought him back to himself, though. If Cas said there was no time, then there hadn’t been time. They’d been together a long time, and Dean knew that Cas wasn’t the sort to rush in without just cause.

 

Sam grabbed a couple of books, and what looked like a journal, and Dean gave his son a hug. “How bad is it?”

 

“It probably looks worse than it is,” Ben replied with a shaky smile. “I’m okay, Dad.”

 

Dean picked up the guns from the floor. “Did you shoot her?” he asked.

 

Ben nodded, looking a little green around the gills. “Cas didn’t have a good angle, and I’d cut myself loose.”

 

Dean had never wanted this for his kid, and he wondered if his own sins were coming back to haunt him. “It was a good shot,” he finally said, because in the end, Ben had shown himself capable, and that deserved praise.

 

“Let’s go home,” Sam said quietly. “There’s nothing more we can do here right now.”

 

“I don’t want the kids to see us like this,” Cas said, his expression grim.

 

Sam nodded. “I’ll run interference. Dean, you can get Cas and Ben upstairs and start first aid and get them cleaned up.”

 

This time, the plan worked: Sam entered the house first and ushered everyone into the kitchen with promises of having their questions answered. Dean limped up the stairs after Ben and Cas. Ben wasn’t moving slowly or guarding his ribs, or anything that might speak to hidden injuries. Cas looked about ready to drop, though.

 

“Ben, grab a quick shower and then get some ice for your face,” Dean ordered. “Cas and I will go next.” He led Cas into their bedroom. “You should sit down before you fall down.”

 

“I don’t want to get blood on the bed,” Cas replied. “I really am sorry I didn’t wait for you and Sam. I thought she was too close to completing the ritual, and I didn’t have a clean shot.”

 

Dean sighed and pulled Cas into a hug. “Ben shouldn’t have gone off on his own. If he’d stayed behind the wards, none of this would have happened.”

 

“I think their plan was always to get one of the kids in order to get to us.” Cas’ reply was muffled against Dean’s shoulder. “Eventually, they might have managed to grab one of the younger ones.”

 

Dean didn’t reply to the unspoken thought that, of all their kids, Ben was probably the toughest, and the most likely to come out of this situation relatively unscathed.

 

He heard the water shut off, and Dean chivvied Cas in to the bathroom to get washed up and his arm properly bandaged.

 

“Lucky for you, it’s a through and through,” Dean said as he inspected the wound. “I can put a couple of stitches in, but we’d probably better see the doctor tomorrow for antibiotics.”

 

Cas made a face but offered no argument. “We got off lightly, all things considered.”

 

Dean didn’t feel like they’d gotten off lightly, not when he was looking at a bullet hole in Cas and his son’s bruised face, but considering all the things that could have gone wrong? All the people who could have died?

 

Cas was probably right after all.

 

“Get cleaned up, and I’ll put a couple of stitches in,” he said.

 

Half an hour later, they were in the kitchen, eating bowls of potato soup that Maryanne had made, surrounded by the rest of the kids. Mary sat close to Ben, holding his free hand has he slurped, wincing occasionally.

 

In the warm light of the kitchen, Dean felt himself relax. Sam was there, and had been with him through this whole thing without a single fight. Ben would be fine. The rest of his kids were unscathed.

 

It was a good day.

 

When Maryanne had left, and they’d sent the kids to bed, Ben willingly going with Mary to the loft, Dean, Cas, and Sam cracked the last of the beers Gil had sent and started going over the journals and books the women had left behind, looking for answers.

 

Dean wasn’t too upset that both of them were dead, considering the havoc they’d wrought, but he would like to know if they should expect more trouble.

 

“Here,” Sam said. “This journal looks a bit like Dad’s old one, and you can see at least two different people wrote in it.”

 

Dean leaned over to look, and Sam obligingly turned it towards him. “It looks like a spell book of some kind.”

 

“I think it is,” Sam agreed. “Here, the writer is talking about taking strength from the earth.”

 

Cas half-rose to look at the entry. “This isn’t entirely black magic.”

 

“What does that mean?” Dean asked.

 

Cas sat back down and shrugged. “It means that not all witches mean to do harm, and this one might not have.”

 

Sam flipped the pages. “Here’s a spell for restoring health—using blood sacrifice.”

 

Cas grimaced. “That’s a different story.”

 

Dean flipped through his own book, one about herbs, and found nothing that would pertain to them, and then an old picture fell out. “What’s this?”

 

He hadn’t gotten a good look at either of the dead women, so he handed it to Cas. “Look familiar?”

 

“The woman Ben shot might be this one,” Cas replied, pointing at a young girl no more than ten. He flipped the photo over. “Fall, 2003.”

 

Sam frowned. “I would have been at Stanford.”

 

“Dad and I split up on a hunt that winter,” Dean said slowly, trying to sort through hazy memories. “That was—what? Fifteen years ago?”

 

“Why did you split up?” Sam asked, sounding more curious than anything else.

 

Dean tried to remember. “There was a haunting that was getting pretty violent, and Dad sent me after the spirit. He said he had another hunt to deal with. We met back up a couple of weeks later, and I could tell he’d been on a bender. I tried to ask him what happened, but he shut me down.”

 

Sam grimaced sympathetically, since both of them had experienced John Winchester’s drunken rage. They usually tried to make themselves scarce.

 

Dean pulled the journal over and started flipping through the pages, noticing that the entries seemed to end abruptly, and then start up again in a new hand. Where the previous writer had only relayed spells and other lore, much like their dad’s hunting journal, this person wasn’t so circumspect.

 

“‘I hate him,’” Dean read. ““She was just trying to save Ellie, and he killed her for it.’ And later, she writes, ‘Now I know his name was John Winchester. I’m going to make him pay.’”

 

Although they read through the journal, there wasn’t much additional information, just a lot of long screeds about how John Winchester had ruined her life, and her family, and she was going to punish him for it.

 

Towards the end, Dean found the entry: “John Winchester might be dead, but he has family somewhere. I’ll curse the entire line.”

 

“Witches,” Dean muttered.

 

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know, Dean. We’ve both done things we’re not proud of because we thought we were saving each other. What if this woman was just trying to save her daughter’s life? Maybe the blood sacrifice was a deer, not a human.”

 

“Perhaps,” Cas said. “But you didn’t harm these women, they came after our family. They had a choice.”

 

But Dean saw what Sam was saying, and it brought up question he’d had, too. The final line of the journal read, “The sins of the fathers will be visited upon their children, even until the third or fourth generation.”

 

“Maybe we can’t escape our pasts,” Dean said quietly.

 

The silence hung heavy over them, and then Sam said, “But we can do better. We _are_ doing better. Maybe that’s the only thing we can do.”

 

Cas pushed away from the table. “Right now, I think we ought to get some sleep. The threat has been taken care of, and we are safe. Let’s not borrow trouble.”

 

Sam rose and offered Dean a hand, which he gratefully took. “Thanks, Sammy.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” Sam replied, and then pulled Dean in for a hard hug. “Whatever trouble comes, we’ll deal with it.”

 

And really, in the end, that was all they could do.


End file.
